I’m working on a side project which involves going through my collection of random ephemera and pulling out items for scanning. In addition to being a nice change of pace from my usual workflow, it’s a lot of fun to be reminded why I held on to all kinds of random crap. Today’s exhibit involves ticket stubs.
The one above is from the 1989 World Series game which was interrupted by the Loma Prieta earthquake. Yes, I was there. And as anyone familiar with Candlestick can tell you, I was way way way up at the top of the stadium. That the rain check is absent is my proof that I returned for the rescheduled game 10 days later. I’m still shocked that the ticket price is only $40. Parking probably costs that much now.
Sticking with the topic of crazy ticket prices, how does the idea of paying $250 for a pair of tickets to five World Cup games sound? In 1994, that’s how cheap soccer tickets had to be for people to go. I made it to three of the five games we purchased. The first one was Brazil’s 3-0 victory over Cameroon and was also my first real introduction to international soccer crowds.
I ended up being lucky enough to get to see Brazil and the USA meet in the second round game (on July 4th too!). Not the best of games but it’s not every day you get to see your national team play Brazil in the knockout round of the World Cup.
While I didn’t go to too many concerts while I was in high school, I did get to see many of the bands which, in hindsight, I should have seen. Yay for festivals. Pearl Jam was one of the few full-length concerts I went to. I remember it being good. Opening acts made less of an impression on me (even though I think one of them was Ben Harper).
I know there are recordings of this show out there. I’m simultaneously curious to hear the recordings and scared that they won’t be what I remember.
Also of note about this ticket stub is that it dates from the period of time when Pearl Jam was boycotting TicketMaster. In fact, none of the ticket stubs here have any exorbitant service fees associated with them. A different world indeed…
11 thoughts on “Memory lane”
What we remember about the Pearl Jam concert is that it was right after you got your driver’s license and you drove. With a car load of high school kids. And you came home reeeeeaaaaly late. But, you called to say you were at someone’s home (Nieto?) hanging out.
A real test of parental trust — and fear.